December 22nd, x778

The Winter Solstice was an important day for the Nitvit tribe. It was a time when they could slow down and look towards the coming seasons with favor. During this day, when the winter was coldest and the night was longest, it was tradition for everyone in the tribe to have a feathered garment added to their usual attire, whether a feather in their hair or feathered bracelets of rope and leather. Meanwhile, they danced around the fire and asked for rain in the coming seasons. From dusk till dawn, it was a grand and long celebration.

"My feet..."

Wendy was still getting used to all the festivities. She had already gotten a feather placed above her ear and a matching one for Carla, but the dancing was brutal. It had only been an hour, and the sun was still setting, but she was already pooped. She didn't know how much more she could take.

"They hurt so much," Wendy whined as she rubbed her sore feet. She had been dancing for an hour, but none of the others had even broken a sweat. Wendy glanced at the white cat wearing a pink dress that stood on her shoulder before asking, "Carla, can you fly me for the next song, please?"

"My wings aren't big enough, Wendy," Carla said as she looked over the festivities. The dancing around the fire was loud and boisterous; she thought it was interesting, albeit a little annoying, "Why don't you rest, Wendy? They won't miss you for a song or two."

She hadn't seen anything like it in her visions of Edolas.

"You'll need it if you want to dance until sunrise," Carla said as she watched Wendy groan in defeat. Their happy discourse was interrupted by an old man's laugh, which inched closer, reminding Carla of something else her visions never showed her. An eccentric guild master who smelled of mischief and spoke with a childish yet drunken laugh, "You should listen to your cat, Wendy."

Carla didn't know how to feel about the guild master. He was too childish, in her opinion, but the guild he'd created was beautiful so she could overlook a few of his more childish tendencies.

"The rate you're going, you won't even last till midnight." Raubol chuckled as he watched the youngest member of Cait Shelter pout. It was adorable, but it wouldn't stop the dancing. The winter solstice was a time to celebrate.

"Here, a drink might help you feel better."

Celebrating meant drinking!

"This is called Ale. Repeat after me," Raubol yelped as an iron fist slammed into the back of his head, knocking him out of his lecture as he heard Pepe's voice from behind him, "Stop teaching Wendy bad habits! She doesn't want to be a drunk like you!"

"But alcohol is so good." Raubol whined as he rubbed the new ghostly bump on his head, "She doesn't know what she's missing."

"You're insufferable," Pepe muttered as she walked back towards the dancing and left the three alone. Taking up her crusade as the overprotective exceed, Carla glared at Raubol, "You know you don't act like a guild master. You need to be more-"

"Wendy, your cat's being mean again."

"Stop calling me a cat! I have a name!" Carla raged as Raubol laughed his ass off. Wendy, the poor girl stuck in the middle of the feud, sighed and turned to Carla to try to keep her from attacking their guild master. She partially succeeded until the laughter from Raubol suddenly stopped dead, and when Wendy turned to ask why, "Mr. Raubol? What's-"

Raubol was already gone.

"Wrong?" Wendy murmured confusedly as she looked around in distress. Her eyes widened as she spotted Qecha, the only person looking their way when Raubol disappeared, "Mr. Qecha!" Wendy called out, "Do you know where Mr. Raubol is?"

It's not like him disappearing like that.

After a conversation, sure. Raubol did it all the time. In the middle of one, though, that was odd. She'd never seen him use his illusions when talking to someone. Not as suddenly as he did. Wendy was worried, but Qecha seemed fine.

"Don't worry about it, Wendy," Qecha said in a bland tone. He tilted his head towards the forest before quietly beckoning Wendy to the top of the guild hall. "He was probably just chasing a butterfly or something. If you want to look for him, feel free to get a better view. It's up to you."

Wendy blinked in surprise as Qecha parted her head and walked away, leaving Wendy with a nervous expression in the middle of the festival. She sighed as she turned to Carla and asked with a slight plea, "Hey, Carla. Do you think you could fly around a bit and look for him? Please?"

Mystogan taught Wendy it was better to be safe than sorry.

Cait Shelter was the most reclusive guild in Fiore. That meant it was out of the way; Vera knew that before he started looking for it. He didn't realize it would be a full day's walk from Devi, the nearest town. Hidden among trees and streams, he had to trek through; Vera always kept his eye on the fading sunlight above. He'd wanted to make it before sundown, but it was starting to look impossible. This forest was too damn big.

I guess I'm camping out tonight...

Vera sighed as he got to a nearby stream, ready to unpack his camping gear, before he heard chortles and laughter echo far in the distance. It sounded like folk songs, dancing, and occasional festive chatter—or, more specifically, people.

Nevermind.

Vera hadn't taken Cait Shelter for a party guild, but Vera wouldn't judge. He might even join in if they let him sleep on a bed. Vera had been sleeping on trains recently, which were convenient but uncomfortable.

I wonder if they have any food... I'm starving.

Vera licked his lips as he picked up his pack and walked through the dusk-lit woods. Following the joyous sounds in the distance as he hiked ever closer to the elusive guild he'd heard so much about from both Siegrain's encounter and the story. Vera was honestly a little excited about it, but he was also worried. It was hard to think what ghosts did for fun.

Wait... Do ghosts eat food?

Vera paused in his footsteps; his brows furrowed in the thought of whether to go back to the stream and try to fish before heading towards a dinner-less guild before he heard the loud noises go silent. The festivities in the distance faded instantly as if someone had shut them off, and the forest buzzing was replaced by a stony quiet. Vera looked around and noticed the leaves sitting still; the sky looked dimmer, and the slight breeze was deathly quiet.

Huh?

It was like even the world itself was holding its breath.

What the hell?

Vera blinked as he looked around, trying to think of a reason the world was standing still, but his head snapped towards a flicker among the leaves as a crow settled on a stray branch. Its beady eyes met his before the bird opened its beak and spoke with an eerie voice, "Well, this is an unpleasant surprise."

The words were haunting. Their graveness put Vera's nerves into overdrive as he touched the sword's hilt at his waist. Listening to the words that seemed to come from the bird yet rung through his skull like a drill, "I must say you've changed. I only got a passing glimpse of you last time, and it was enough to make me vomit. Your presence is much less vile now."

Vera's muscles tensed as he glanced at the trees and gulped. He felt like he was being suffocated. The sweat trickling down his chin felt like a timer, and as he listened to the distasteful voice, he dreaded what it would count down to. "Tell me, why are you here? You have no need for a weapon," But suddenly, the voice stopped, and Vera's body stiffened under the weight of silence. His mind was at the edge of panic before he heard a snort, then a giggle.

"Oh? My mistake. I mistook you for someone else."

Vera blinked as the crow shattered, and the noiseless forest again began brimming with life and chatter of distant festivities. It was like Vera had woken up from a dream he hadn't even known he was in. He was greeted by a thin, elderly man lounging on a nearby tree branch with a wood cane and a large, mischievous smile. The man had tan skin, animal fur pants, a feathered headdress, and no shirt in the middle of winter. He looked excited.

"My name's Raubol. What's yours?"

Vera wasn't sure how he felt about it. He knew this old man, Raubol, from the story, the ghost/guild master of Cait Shelter. Vera wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this sense of unease that lingered in his bones. The urge to flee every time he thought the childish grin on Raubol's face would fall for something darker. Vera felt on edge, but he swallowed it as best he could, "I'm Vera."

"Ooh? From Phantom Lord? Siegrain mentioned you might be stopping by." Raubol grinned quickly as he jumped from the tree and landed beside Vera. Vera tried to hide the flinch that crossed his shoulders as Raubol ignored his discomfort and tapped him on the leg, "What're you waiting for? Let's go. The night's still young. We'll miss the party."

Vera gulped, his nerves slowly settling down as he watched Raubol prance along happily. He could see why Siegrain described Cait Shelter's master as an eccentric old man. The switch between deathly and childlike behavior gave Vera whiplash. Eventually, Vera followed along, mostly because he didn't want to give Raubol a reason to lose his childish smile.

"Pepe is making Succotash, that is to die for."

Not starving was also a big motivation.

It had been thirty minutes since Raubol disappeared, and Wendy was nervous.

"Carla, can you please check again?"

"I've already checked the guild hall, Wendy; I didn't see anything," Carla said with wings out of her back as she hovered slightly above Wendy's head. She had already flown above the guild hall, the tallest point in Cait Shelter, and hadn't seen Raubol. "He's probably just getting more ale, Wendy. I don't see the problem." Carla floated down to rest on Wendy's shoulders as her wings disappeared, and she grumbled, "Besides him being an alcoholic."

"The problem is that he never misses a celebration," Wendy mumbled as she ignored Carla's jab at the guildmaster. Her worries soon amounted to nothing as she watched the air shimmer behind Carla. Raubol playfully smacked Carla on the head and laughed, "Boo! Miss me, cat?"

"Ow! Stop calling me cat!" Carla hissed as she swatted at the old guild master, missing entirely as the elderly man hid back in his illusions and appeared on the other side of Wendy's shoulder with a fresh jug of ale in his hands, "Hehe, you need to work on your reflexes. They aren't very cat-like."

"I'll show you cat-like you senile-" Carla's incoming rant was halted as a hand slid over her mouth, her eyes twitching before she bit it harshly. Only to reason a disappointed grunt in return, "Well, you're about as rude as I expected."

"Vera!" Wendy yelled excitedly as the hand muzzling Carla's mouth went away. Carla turned to get a good look at the new arrival. He looked like a teenager, maybe 14 or 15; his skin was pale, his hair was black as the approaching night, and his eyes were red. He wore black cargo pants and a red hoodie, but she instantly noticed the sword at his waist and panicked. "Wendy! Don't-"

"Relax, you're being overprotective," Vera said as he ignored Carla's glare before he turned to the excited Wendy and smiled. "Hey, Wendy. It's been a while. Siegrain mentioned you visited Oak Town for the Hallow's Eve Festival. How'd you like it?" Vera asked as he watched Wendy's eyes become as wide as her smile before she exclaimed, "It was amazing! I got to be a Fairy, and Carla was my Pixie. It was so much fun!" Wendy smiled before remembering something, huffed, and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing, "I'm going next year too, so you have to be there. You and Mystogan both flaked out on it this year. You both owe me a Halloween."

"I'll do my best." Vera chuckled as he sheepishly rubbed his neck before deciding to pounce on the opportunity, "Hey Wendy since you mentioned Mystogan, is there any way I can speak to him?" Vera plastered on a pleasing smile as he fabricated a semi-lie before Wendy got curious about why he was asking for someone he'd never met, "Siegrain told me he was good with magic tools. I want to ask him for some advice."

Vera watched as Wendy blinked in surprise, her earlier grievances lost. She hummed, "He's not here right now. He's traveling, so he only gets to visit once every month." Wendy's eyes and smile brightened considerably, "His last visit was a few weeks ago, though, so he should be coming back soon! I'll introduce you two!"

"Thanks, Wendy. That would be awesome." Vera smiled since his little stay wouldn't be as long as he had thought. If he stayed in Cait Shelter for a few weeks, he might be able to make it back to Oak Town before Spring. He was almost starting to think it was too good to be true before a drunken old man with no perception of eavesdropping cut in between a swig of cold beer: "Hey, now. I'm the guild master here!"

Vera turned to the old man, Raubol. Vera no longer felt uneasy around the old ghost. Their conversation on the way back had involved too many drunken jokes and ramblings for Vera to stay cautious. Vera still recognized that the old ghost could be scary if he wanted to be, but Vera's wariness was starting to fade since, apparently, he wasn't on that list. Even now, Vera began seeing Raubol as more of a prankster than anything. Especially with how Raubol downed his eleventh mug and gave what Vera could assume was a pouty mumble, "Shouldn't I get a say in whether or not you can stay here for the time being?"

"Can I stay here for the time being?"

"Of course! Why'd you even ask?" Raubol laughed as Vera's eye twitched. There it was again; honestly, Vera was 15, and Raubol acted like more of a teenager than he did. That aside, though, any lingering reservations he might have had completely faded away as Raubol dropped his mug and dragged him and Wendy off to the dancefloor. Raubol's grin was joyful, and his words more so, "Now come on, no more talking! We have to dance and welcome our new guest!"

Vera huffed as he followed the surrounding Cait Shelter guild member's examples and kicked his shoes off, watching curiously as a woman put a feather in his hair and dragged him off to join the dances. The way they danced was odd, but he learned quickly that he enjoyed it. They danced freely and wildly, like leaves lost in the wind. They sang and danced till the stars inched overhead, and the fire became a light source instead of warmth.

It was... fun. He enjoyed letting loose, moving his body to the song's rhythm instead of combat. His favorite moment was midnight when the moon was in the sky, and the singing crescendoed. It was the moment that Vera realized he still had hours of dancing left, courtesy of Raubol's wholehearted laughter, "What're you slouching for Vera? We're just getting started! This is the Winter Solstice!"

Vera didn't get much of an impression of Cait Shelter in the story, and after midnight, he realized it was a shame.

"Let's dance till dawn!"

Cait Shelter was a wonderful guild.

The hours passed quickly, and Vera was halfway asleep by the time the moon had set and the sun was making its way over the horizon. He decided then and there that it wasn't a party guild after being dragged out to dance around the fire. The word party was too lighthearted a word for how physically demanding Cait Shelter's celebrations were.

"What the hell..."

Some of Vera's earlier training sessions with Jose weren't that draining.

"You're all insane." Vera huffed as he lay in a pool of sweat, watching the sunrise creep into the sky above as the fire dwindled to embers beside him. Wendy had clonked out hours ago, and Qecha had taken her to a hut to sleep. Vera had stayed out to dance, partly out of spite and partly because it was fun, and had barely made it to dawn. Which was insane, considering he was the only one breathing heavily, "Do you not get tired?"

It was a stupid question; in retrospect, they were ghosts. Of course, they don't get tired, but in Vera's defense, he was drowsy after a whole night of dancing, and the words slipped from his lips before he could think too hard about them. Thankfully, Pepe, the kind lady who dragged him out to the dance floor the first time, gave him an incredible answer, "We've been doing this since before we first learned to walk. This doesn't phase us anymore."

"Still insane."

"No, only Raubol. The rest of us are fine." Pepe shrugged as she ignored Raubol's indignant 'Hey!' She then left to help the rest of the community pick up the food and drinks littered around after such a long night. Meanwhile, Vera caught his breath, a huff escaping his lips. As he looked up, he saw Raubol floating above with a Cheshire smile. "So? How'd you like the festival? Fun, right?"

"I can't feel my legs."

"That isn't a no." Raubol chuckled as he tapped his cane to the ground, and Vera began floating in the air. Vera grumbled, 'I'm not a balloon,' as Raubol dragged him to a guest hut like a balloon. Vera held back a grunt as he landed on a bed and grumbled, "Ow. You're a jerk."

"Now, that isn't a way to treat your host." Raubol tisked as Vera rolled his eyes and got ready to sleep. He heard Raubol turn to leave, and Vera's eyes nearly closed before he got curious and turned towards Raubol's departing back.

"Hey, back in the forest... who did I remind you of?"

Vera watched Raubol's back stiffen, and his shoulders rose a second before falling. Vera couldn't see Raubol's face, but the words the old ghost said were innocent enough. "No one important." The following words less so, "Besides, I doubt you'd enjoy an old man's tales. They'd bore you."

They sounded of misdirection, but Vera wasn't willing to push someone like Raubol. Vera was confident he couldn't survive if it went wrong.

"Fair enough," Vera said disappointedly but without resistance. He settled down and expected Raubol to leave, but instead, the old ghost spoke with a hint of a smile, "Ah, before I forget, I recall you telling Wendy you wanted to meet Mystogan. Can I ask why?"

"I wanted to ask him about magic tools."

"Don't you already know the basics? I assume that the sword on your waist isn't for show."

"Yeah, this isn't about the basics, though," Vera admitted as he groaned and looked at the sword hanging limply by his waist. He unhooked it and set it against his bed frame. Before he glanced at Raubol, he explained, "I'm still learning how to use my magic tool, but I don't need help with that. I've already had one before. I know how they work."

Vera didn't need help with the essential functions of magic tools. This was about how to use them against mages because Mystogan was the best at it.

"Siegrain told me that Mystogan can't use magic."

In the story, of all the great mages and magic, no one replicated what Mystogan did. Not in Earthland, at least, and while Mystogan's heritage in Edolas might've helped, that didn't matter. What mattered was that Mystogan was the only S-class mage in the story that didn't use magic.

"Right now, I'm kind of in a similar situation."

Vera would be an idiot not to try, at least, to ask how he did it. Even if Vera only got a single conversation out of this ordeal, it would be worth it.

"I want to ask for advice on how to fight mages without magic." Vera shrugged as he watched Raubol's eyes widen for a second at the mention of his 'situation' before Raubol nodded, "Smart. I hope you don't mind waiting for a while. I don't control Mystogan. It could be a while before he comes back."

"That's fine," Vera admitted. It wasn't like he was lacking in things to do. He had his sword to work on Torch's notes, hanging out with Wendy and her judgy cat. There were many things to do while he waited, but once he heard Raubol's playful laugh, he realized he might be getting a few more: "Well, that's wonderful news. Oh, and don't worry. Cait Shelter isn't as strict as Phantom Lord, but we know how to keep busy."

Yeah, Vera was confident now.

"We'll make sure your stay isn't boring."

Raubol was a trickster at heart.

The sun was high in the sky as Cait Shelter's residents milled around, their daily activities keeping them busy after the long night. Unlike the children sleeping off the festivities, they didn't get tired, so they busied themselves when possible. With the sun in the sky, Raubol sat atop the cat-shaped guild hall and watched as Qecha entered existence behind him. Qecha asked, with no room for question, "What happened earlier, guild master?"

"What do you mean?"

"Back during the festival, I saw you leave," Qecha clarified as he leaned against one of the ears of the guild hall. His eyes tilted towards the remains of the pyre they were still cleaning up. "Your face wasn't happy-go-lucky, guild master. You looked serious."

"I can be serious when I need to."

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it," Qecha said as he turned his eyes at the guildmaster. His words were tinted with worry: "You looked different, guild master. You looked like..."

Qecha had never seen Raubol make that face before. Not once in the last 400 years.

"You looked like you were going to kill someone."

Qecha had kept his composure for Wendy's sake, but now that she was asleep, he wanted answers. He wanted to know what could've given Raubol such an expression, only to return happily with a teenager in tow as if nothing had happened. Qecha was worried. Still, the only answer he got was Raubol tilting his head towards the distant forest, near one of the largest trees in the distance. It was an apple tree, the oldest in the forest. Qecha was about to ask Raubol what was happening, but the old man murmured retrospectively without glancing back.

"I looked like I was going to kill someone, huh..."

Qecha blinked as Raubol shimmered out of existence, taking a detour to another part of the forest, no doubt, with only a parting goodbye that stunned Qecha to the core. Qecha was privy to Raubol's oath never to take a life. Everyone in the guild was. It was a sacred vow. A sacred vow that Raubol had never considered breaking even once in the last 400 years. It was almost ironic in a sense.

"I suppose I was."

Even in his old age, there was a first time for everything.